Carry On
by ColtsAndQuills
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. A short story from the point of view of one of the brothers, who has to make a deadly choice between the lesser of two evils.


I love my brother, but he can be a pain sometimes. Who knows? Maybe that's what little brothers are for. To drive you crazy. To be stubborn, no matter the consequences.

Like mine. He still thinks I'm a decent guy.

It makes my gut twist to know he'll probably change his mind by the time this is over.

There are days when we argue, when he pushes my already short temper to the limit. But this isn't anything new, and it's never changed a thing between us. Nothing that really matters.

I remember when the disagreements first started, when he was getting older, beginning to figure out who he was. Who he wanted to be. We'd go back and forth, yelling about our father's choices, our responsibilities. Then, right in the thick of it, one of us would say something completely stupid. It was as simple as that. The fight would be over, and he'd be grinning at me, as if I were the dumbest person in the world. As if I was his hero.

Damn it.

I mean, look at him. Even now— my jaw is locked, my mouth grim, but he's smiling at me anyway, keeping in time with my steps. He always walks in my shadow but is never any darker for it. That's how he's always been, how he'd always be. I'm so proud of him it hurts, but I'm also terrified of being left behind.

Not that I can admit that. Not to myself, or him.

Hell, the truth is, there's too much that goes unspoken between us these days. Too much I can't say. I wish I could share everything with him. Bleed myself dry to clean all of this up.

But I might not have the chance to tell him goodbye.

With the end coming soon, my memories are chasing after me. Things I haven't thought of in years suddenly feel like they happened yesterday. Like the first time I had to change him— it reeked so bad that I panicked, thinking he must be sick. Or then there was that night she rocked him in her arms, with me pressing close to her side. I knew I was happy, but was too young to understand why, or to appreciate it. She had smiled as she whispered stories to us about angels. She said they were always nearby, watching, keeping us safe. We both fell asleep against her.

Then there's that other one. A memory that stands out above the others.

I can't share the details. I don't remember where we were, or what I was doing. But that one moment, that one _second_ , never left me.

It was when he said his first word.

My name.

It sealed a deal, set my fate. A lifetime of scraped knees, colds, bad choices… from that moment on, they all came in pairs. Him and me, always. I guess that's what makes it so strange that we turned out so different.

He still knows how to find the good in people, to give them the benefit of a doubt.

"You're letting yourself get discouraged. No good will come from that. Are you really going to give up, and that's it?"

He's squeezing my shoulder, telling me to be strong. He's not saying it for my sake. He actually believes it.

"We've been talking," he continues. "And I think we know a way to work this out. We can make things right again."

Things will never be right. Not how they were meant to be. Some sins can't be forgiven.

He's staring at me, still fighting, refusing to give up hope. I have to keep my eyes trained ahead. He'll know, otherwise. He'll see the truth.

Last night, he fell asleep in a chair, still in his clothes from the day. Like a thousand times before, I threw a blanket over him. It wasn't until I was lying down that I realized I'd never be able to do that again.

I went outside and screamed at the sky.

Of course, no one screamed back.

He wasn't there to listen. Not anymore. My prayers weren't going to be answered.

I felt rage at his absence. Rage at having lost him.

Now, I'm trying to draw upon that same anger. I need it to fuel me, to burn away my hesitation and fear. If I let that fury take control, let it block out everything else, I can finish this, once and for all.

He's still talking, unaware of the sweat suddenly beading at my brow. He'll try to stop me if I give him the chance. I feel like that sky. Empty. Dark. My hands won't stop shaking. Palms soaked. Can feel the edge of bone slide against my fingers, drawing blood. Can't find a grip. I remind myself, better me than him. Probably going to be sick. Can taste bile rising up. Without meaning to, I fall a step behind. I memorize the outline of his shoulders and know I want to go back to the beginning.

A deep part of me screams at him to keep walking, but he's stopping. Turning around to check on me. Our eyes meet, and that's all it takes. He realizes what I'm about to do before I'm even sure I can find the will to go through with it. He's always known me better than I've known myself.

When the row of teeth sink in, grinding past bone to drink deep, I can barely see through my pain. I try to hold onto that hurt, let it pull me under.

I want to die.

The worst part of all is that he forgives me. It's in his tears, the squeeze of his fingers on my wrist, in the last smile he'll ever share with me.

He's dead in my arms before we both hit the ground, my legs giving out. His pain is over. Mine is more than I can stand.

I don't know how long I'm there for. By the time I hear the voice, recognize the figure strolling into the day's dying light, my brother's gone cold against my chest.

"Don't look so sad, Cain. When I first met your brother, I promised him paradise. A home that would be far more grand than the Eden your parents so selfishly lost."

"None of that was ever yours to give. You lied to him." My lips peel back, showing my teeth, but I'm not sure if it's in a grimace or a snarl.

"Huh. Well, I never claimed to be God. He jumped to that conclusion all by himself." The Devil paces around me, judging my work. "And last I checked, he's now in Heaven, so I certainly made good on my part of the deal." He takes my shoulder to help raise me up. "But now, I believe, it's your turn."

My sin isn't the same as that of my parents'.

My sin won't live on, as did theirs.

My brother is free, and I'll carry this weight alone.

And for that reason, I now know why my teeth are bared.

It's because I'm smiling.

—-

"How is he?" He waits, but the boy doesn't reply. "Sam?"

"Cas… Dean's in trouble."


End file.
